Don't You, Blaise
by MeAmJeni
Summary: "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please." - "I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like." Canon-compliant.
1. Chapter 1

"_Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please."_

"_I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like."_

He scowled. He wasn't the type to be…haunted by his words, but what else would you call this? He watched as a boy and a girl came in from the grounds. They walked past without even glancing at him, but he kept his eyes on them.

The boy was black, tall, and rather attractive. Blaise knew he was in Gryffindor, he was in sixth year, that his name was Dean Thomas. Blaise also knew that the girl he was with was his girlfriend.

She was small, with creamy skin, long, thick, shiny red hair and pretty brown eyes. She really was quite attractive. Blaise knew that she was also in Gryffindor, in her fifth year, and that her name was Ginny Weasley. He knew that she had six older brothers and no sisters. In fact, Blaise knew quite a few things about Ginny Weasley that few people from his house did, and that most people from his house would have been shocked at his knowing. Not that he cared.

Unsurprisingly, it was Ginny he was watching, though for a brief moment his eyes locked on their hands, clasped between them. Ebony and ivory. He shook his head, shaking away the random thought as the couple went around of corner and out of sight.

_Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise…_

_Yes. Yes, I do, _he silently answered the echo in his head.

_I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like._

_Wouldn't I? _Blaise started walking toward the Slytherin common room. He might be a little late coming back, but that was nothing new. He used to be later than this almost every night. And as long as no teacher other than Snape saw him, he was all right.

He had scarcely entered the long, low, underground common room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains, when he heard his name shouted.

"Blaise! Blaise! Come here." Tracey Davis, a tall, blonde, blue-eyed girl in his year waved at him.

Obediently he walked over.

"Sit down," she suggested, airily waving her hand at one of the high-backed chairs.

Once again, he obliged. Blaise wasn't a meek or docile boy, but he didn't normally walk around picking fights. Especially not with pretty blonde girls in his House.

"Look here." She thrust a paper at him. "Next Hogsmeade weekend. Draco's already asked Pansy." She glanced around and then leaned closer to Blaise, adding more quietly, "You should have heard her go on about it. You'd think it's the first time Draco's looked at her. And don't tell anyone I said this, but Daphne told me she isn't sure that Pansy didn't actually ask Draco." She laughed.

"Why can't she ask him?" Blaise asked, frowning.

"She _can_. But she _told_ me that Draco asked her… I just wonder. He's spending an awful lot of time alone this year and Pansy's just a wee bit worried, I know she is. You know what he's up to?"

"Nothing to me," Blaise answered.

"But you know, don't you?" Tracey pressed.

Blaise hesitated, and then shook his head firmly. "No, I don't. But that doesn't mean I couldn't find out if I wanted to."

Tracey dragged her chair closer. "I knew you could. Say, Blaise, you're spending an awful lot of time alone lately as well. Why?"

He shrugged. He didn't like when people asked a lot of questions about him. "I don't know," he said. "Nothing, really."

"Well, I say alone, but I don't know. You're just away from us." She looked at him innocently, which he knew she wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm alone," he said.

"But why? It's not like-I mean…"

Blaise knew what she meant. Tracey Davis was trying to say that he, tall, with high cheekbones, dark skin, and long, brown slanting eyes, was quite good-looking and was in fact, the most sought-after Slytherin boy in their year, and possibly in any year. Basically, she was saying that there was no need for him to spend his time alone as there were many girls (_with her among them, likely,_ Blaise thought) who would have been only too glad for his attention. Blaise was well aware of these facts, and had taken advantage of them in previous years. But so far, this year, he hadn't been seen with any girl, though his status as most sought-after male Slytherin sixth year hadn't changed. Nor was it likely to. Blaise's competition couldn't be called stiff. Especially if you only counted those in his year.

There were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who everyone called Crabbe and Goyle. Blaise thought it seemed likely their own mothers called them by their surnames. They were almost always together, and even more seldom did someone say one name and not the other-unless, of course, they were actually talking to Crabbe or Goyle, which didn't happen a lot either, since neither Crabbe nor Goyle could have been called loquacious.

There was also Theodore Nott. He was smart and rather rebellious. Blaise felt it wouldn't have been a surprise if he _hadn't_ been in Slytherin, if just to spite his father. However, Theodore Nott was rather stringy and rabbit-y in appearance.

And there was Draco Malfoy. Draco was the one who _would_ have been Blaise's competition, if Pansy Parkinson hadn't claimed him in second year. And not many Slytherin girls wanted Pansy mad at them.

Tracey Davis had a slightly different 'competition'.

First of all, there was Pansy Parkinson-definitely top cat of the Slytherin girls, known as Pansy's gang, though perhaps not the prettiest. She was rather small, with longish brown hair, a rather wide face, sharply slanting eyebrows, and brown eyes. However, she was interested in Draco Malfoy, and no one else. Blaise classified her as 'pretty enough and Malfoy's girl'.

Then there was Daphne Greengrass. She was rather pretty, with reddish brown hair, wide blue eyes, and lots of curves. She was considered Pansy's best friend, most of the time.

And there was Anastasia Runcorn, a slightly nasty girl with dark hair and green eyes. Blaise avoided her as a general rule, not that she was nasty to_ him_. She was pretty enough and just a little too confident in her own looks. Pansy didn't get along with her too well most of the time, so for the last year Anastasia had spent as much time as possible with her boyfriend, Peregrine Derrick. He was older than her and therefore had already left Hogwarts, so this year Anastasia hovered on the edge of things most of the time, or tried to.

And then there was Millicent Bulstrode. Large, not at all pretty, rather ungainly and awkward, she was something like a feminine Crabbe or Goyle, though with a mind, if a rather hot-headed and stubborn one. Blaise didn't like her, but he wasn't afraid of her. He knew he could jinx her faster than she could reach him, for Millicent was better at physical duelling than magical.

Blaise realized that Tracey was still watching him, her eyebrows raised. She was obviously still wondering why he was alone so much, waiting for him to say something.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You used to have a lot of girls dying for you to look at them and you would just kind of… But now you act like you don't know they exist. Like you _really_ don't know it." Tracey tipped her head at him.

He shrugged again. "Maybe none of the girls 'dying for me to look at them' interest me."

"You mean, you don't think they're good enough? Blaise, you really have too high standards."

Blaise didn't know any other girl, especially in Slytherin, who would say things like that to him. Not even Pansy. But he kind of liked Tracey. She didn't make him feel like jinxing her with all her flirting like Daphne, she didn't make him jinx her in self-defence like Millicent; she didn't make him want to jinx her with her pay-more-attention-to-me-I'm-beautiful act like Anastasia. If she flirted (which she did, Blaise knew) she did it with a subtlety that actually made it work far better than Daphne's methods ever did. She never attacked Blaise physically and she didn't think she was the prettiest girl in Hogwarts and everyone should acknowledge it.

He shrugged again at her. "What are my standards?"

"Well, first of all, the girl has to be a _real_ girl, which to you means she has to have at least one pretty thing about her, even if it's just her eyes, she has to be at least _slightly_ graceful, she has to smell nice, she has to have nice hair, and she has to _look_ like a girl." Tracey ticked them off on her fingers, smirking at Blaise.

He was surprised. She definitely knew him better than he would have guessed, and far better than he knew her. At the same time, he realized Tracey met all these requirements. He wondered if she knew.

"Look like a girl?" he asked.

Tracey laughed. "Yes. Um, well, like they have to have curves and… stuff." She waved her hand at her chest.

Blaise glanced down and up. "_Oh_."

She laughed harder. "Yes. _Oh_. Blaise, considering who you are, you're really slow sometimes."

Blaise, not knowing what to say to this, shrugged.

"I'm tired," Tracey announced. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Blaise." And, still grinning, she departed.

"Night," he said after her retreating back.

"Blaise." Anastasia dropped into Tracey's chair, surprising him.

"Hi," he replied.

As little as he liked Anastasia, his mother, remiss as she might have been in most areas, had firmly taught him how to treat girls. Blaise didn't always entirely follow these rules, but mostly he did. However, he was realizing now, maybe the reason he never minded jinxing Millicent was because he didn't consider her a real girl, not if he really went by what Tracey had said.

"So… You asked anyone to go with you to Hogsmeade yet?" Anastasia raised her eyebrows in an over display of innocence.

"No," he answered.

"Oh… No one has asked me yet, either."

Blaise, wishing she could be slightly more subtle, stood up. "Someone probably will. I'm going to bed." He left.

Later, as he lay in his bed, he wondered why he had such a hard time getting Ginny Weasley out of his head. He could name what was wrong with her without thinking twice. It was like a neat list in his head, one that he knew by heart.

_1. She was a blood traitor.  
__2. She was a Gryffindor.  
__3. She was a Weasley._

He scowled into the darkness. He had had that list in his head ever since Christmas, ever since he had suddenly noticed that she had beautiful hair. Of course, ever since then he had noticed more and more things about her that he liked-as far as he was concerned, her good points far outweighed her bad ones.

He heard the dormitory door open and close. From the silence, he guessed that it was Nott, or maybe Malfoy. It was even possible that it was Crabbe and Goyle, but not likely, because whoever it was hadn't bumped into anything.

He turned over, picturing Ginny Weasley in his head. He wished he was asleep.

~'~

The next morning when he entered the common room it was almost empty. Then he saw Tracey and Daphne sitting near the fire, talking. He wondered why they weren't in the Great Hall. It was late; he had had a lie-in, a very ill-advised one.

Tracey, looking up, saw him. "Good morning, Sunshine," she said.

"Why aren't you in the Great Hall?" he said by way of greeting.

Both girls laughed.

"Daphne's waiting on Pansy," Tracey explained.

"What about you?"

"Oh, same thing, more or less."

Pansy came clattering down the steps from the girl's dormitories.

"Oh, Blaise, you haven't seen Draco this morning, have you?" she asked breathlessly.

"I just got up," he replied.

"Well, come on then. I want to talk to you."

Daphne and Tracey exchanged why-am-I-not surprised looks, which Pansy didn't see, but Blaise did. He smiled, which Pansy seemed to think was for her, so she returned it. They headed for the Great Hall together, Daphne and Tracey following.

Blaise and Pansy entered the Great Hall and Blaise immediately saw Ginny Weasley's mane of red hair. She was sitting next to Dean Thomas. As he watched, Thomas stood up, saying something to Ginny. Then he bent, kissed Ginny briefly on the lips, and left the Great Hall. Blaise's stomach clenched as he watched the tall, black Gryffindor leave. He suppressed the urge to pull out his wand and jinx Thomas-he knew one that would make him trip, which seemed quite attractive. He sighed and sat down next to Pansy.

She looked at him inquiringly. "Why do you look like you want to curse Dean Thomas?"

He shrugged. "He's just been annoying me," he answered briefly.

"He's a Mudblood," Pansy replied, shrugging. "_And_ he's with that blood traitor Ginny Weasley."

Blaise shrugged again and began buttering his toast.

"Anyway, Blaise." Pansy poked at her scrambled eggs with a fork.

He added jam to his toast. When she said nothing more he looked up and was surprised to see that she looked upset.

"What?" he asked more gently, setting the knife down and looking at her steadily.

She kept her eyes on her eggs. "What do you know about Draco?"

He shrugged. "Depends on what you mean."

She looked up at him. "Where is he? What's he doing? Why doesn't he spend time with me anymore?" she asked rapidly, "Does he-does he have another girlfriend?" She dropped her eyes again.

Blaise hesitated before answering. "I don't know where he is or what he's doing, but I'm pretty sure he isn't interested in anyone except you."

She bit her lip. "He asked me to Hogsmeade, you know. But I don't think he would have if I hadn't…hinted."

"He probably would have, just not as soon." Blaise resumed eating now that Pansy no longer looked on the verge of tears.

"You really think so?" Pansy asked seriously. She took a bite of her eggs and looked at Blaise.

"Yeah," he said.

Glancing up, he saw Ginny Weasley leaving the hall, her long red hair swinging. As she walked past the Slytherin table her eyes met Blaise's briefly, and then she quickly looked down. He looked back down too, at his plate.

"Who are you asking?" Pansy asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Dunno."

"Are you asking _any_one?" she asked, an odd little smile hovering about her lips.

"I don't know." Blaise finished his breakfast quickly and stood up. "I gotta go. I'll see you later today."

"Yeah, see ya," she replied, and scooted up the bench to sit with Daphne and Tracey.

Blaise left the Great Hall, scowling, trying not to remember the way Ginny's hair had swung from side to side, brushing softly against her back in a way that made him think things he knew he definitely shouldn't be thinking about a blood traitor, Gryffindor, and Weasley.

~'~

During break that afternoon Blaise, like so many others, went down to the lake. He had only just sat down under a beech tree when he realized Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley were sitting behind a bush not far from where he was. He swore silently under his breath, though he wasn't actually sure it was a bad thing. He glanced towards them. He couldn't see them very well, but well enough to see that they were snogging. He scowled and looked away. He watched the lake for a while, and then he looked back. He couldn't help it. They didn't seem to be kissing anymore. He hesitated for a moment in which what he should do fought a losing battle against what he wanted to do. Then he pulled out a pair of Extendable Ears and sent one end towards Ginny and Dean Thomas. The other end he held to his ear.

They didn't seem to be having much of a conversation. Mostly there was silence, and then Ginny said, "Oh, look, there's Luna."

"Yeah," Thomas replied briefly.

"And there's Seamus. He looks bored. He probably wishes you were with him instead of me." She laughed. Seemingly she was looking around and talking about whoever she saw.

Thomas laughed as well. "I don't care."

"Mm, there're Parvati and Padma. Wonder where Lavender is. Probably with that brother of mine." She made a disgusted noise. "And there're Michael and Cho. They look like they're having fun."

Again, she laughed and Blaise was sure that her laughter sounded nicer than anyone else's. _Shut up, Zabini_, he told himself.

"Look, over there's Pansy Parkinson and her gang. Where do you think Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle are?"

"I don't know," Thomas said dryly.

"There's Blaise Zabini. He makes me nervous."

"Why?" Thomas had a protective edge to his voice and Blaise scowled angrily, but listened intently for Ginny's response.

"He's been watching me a lot. It's creepy." She made a disparaging noise in her throat. "Don't know what he wants with _me_. I'm a blood traitor, remember?"

"And I'm a Mudblood," Thomas replied. "But I can think of several things he might want with you."

"Oh, Dean, shut up," she responded. "Anyway, who cares about Zabini? He's a typical Slytherin, through and through, with a special talent for posing…" And she snickered.

Blaise, angry, jerked back the Extendable Ear and stuffed it in his pocket. He stood up and headed for the castle, swearing softly.

"Language, Zabini," someone behind him said in a singsong voice.

He glanced back to see Tracey Davis walking behind him, smirking widely at him. He looked away, but she walked faster until she was right next to him.

"What's wrong, Sunshine? Who are you swearing at now?" she asked him.

He wondered why she was calling him Sunshine.

"Hellooo, I'm talking to you," she said.

He looked over at her and shrugged. She said nothing more but followed him all the way to the Slytherin common room and up to the boys' dormitory.

"You're not actually supposed to be in here," he said darkly.

"It's not my first time, Sunshine, believe me," she replied calmly, perching blithely on Malfoy's bed.

He sat on his bed and scowled. She launched herself over next to him without hesitating.

"Come on, Sunshine, tell me," she coaxed.

"Why are you calling me Sunshine?" he asked, scowling.

"Cheer up," she said. "I'm being sarcastic, Zabini."

"Well, cut it out," he snapped, ignoring the fact that she was basically sitting against him.

"As you wish." She shrugged. "You like Stormy better."

"No. Sounds like a horse."

She laughed. "True… What about Darkness?"

"Isn't Blaise Zabini good enough for you?" he demanded impatiently without looking at her.

"Sure, sure. I didn't know you were so touchy. You need to calm down, Blaise-my-love," she said.

He scowled. "I'm not your love."

"How do you know?" She laughed. "But you're right, you're not. Would you like it better if I called you 'my boy', like Slughorn?"

He made an annoyed noise without opening his mouth.

"Okay, I shall be nice and leave you. Or I would, but we gotta go to class. Come on."


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh dear people, I do not own Harry Potter! Shock of the century, that, isn't it? **

* * *

The next day, as Blaise watched Ginny and pretended not to, he began wondering what was really so wrong with being a Weasley. Of course, he could think of lots of last names he'd rather have, but it really wasn't Ginny's fault. She couldn't help it. She hadn't chosen what surname to be born with. And, without realizing it, Blaise crossed out number three on his _Things That Are Wrong with Ginny Weasley _list. And his mind instantly went to work on number two, much to Professor McGonagall's disgust.

McGonagall didn't, of course, know _what_ it was that was making Blaise Zabini pay so little attention to her class, but she did know that he seemed very distracted, which was odd. Blaise Zabini did not love Transfiguration, but he was an intelligent boy who normally did well in most classes.

But Blaise wasn't thinking about Transfiguration. He was thinking about Ginny Weasley being a Gryffindor, which, was that really any more her fault than being a Weasley was? After all, she hadn't said she wanted to be in Gryffindor, at least not in Blaise's presence, and it was the Sorting Hat that chose which House you would be in. And anyway, all of the Weasley's were in Gryffindor, it was like a rule of nature, and so it basically came with being a Weasley, which wasn't her fault. And number two was struck off the list, leaving only number one: _She was a blood traitor_.

But that came with the Weasley thing too, didn't it? It was the way she had been brought up, and Blaise, who was almost always honest with himself, knew he really didn't care if she was a blood traitor or not. She was _Ginny_, and that was all that really mattered.

He reached this conclusion during break, as he was walking down towards the lake. He saw Ginny, standing alone under a tree, leaning against the trunk. His stomach twisted as he saw what could only be tear-streaks on her cheeks.

But he walked on. He could not stop and talk to her, ask her what was wrong. For a moment he felt an unreasonable resentment towards Dean Thomas. Why wasn't he there, comforting his girlfriend? Not that Ginny Weasley was the type of girl that needed to be comforted, no, it was just wrong that any girl would stand alone and cry when she had a boyfriend somewhere. Not that Ginny Weasley was crying, but it was obvious she had been.

Frustrated and angry, Blaise slammed his fist into a tree trunk-and instantly regretted it. His hand was throbbing. He doubted it was broken, but it did hurt. He grimaced wildly.

It was at this moment that he heard someone calling: "Ginny! Where are you?"

He looked up to see Hermione Granger coming down from the castle, looking around for Ginny. He decided she must be blind, Ginny was in plain sight. Not to him at the moment, but she must be to Granger. It didn't occur to Blaise that Ginny might not have the appeal for Granger that she did for him.

"I'm here, Hermione," he heard Ginny saying.

Blaise watched Granger head towards Ginny until she was out of sight, and then, knowing that Ginny would hate him if she knew, pulled out his Extendable Ears and with a low "Go!" sent them in the direction of the two girls.

"-wrong?" Granger was saying.

"Dean and I-we've just split up. Well, _I_ just split us up." Ginny laughed a little shakily.

Blaise's brain seemed to have quit working. He wasn't at all sure if he had just heard what he thought he had.

"But-why?" he dimly Granger asking.

Then he was riveted on Ginny's reply.

"Oh, you know, it just wasn't working… We actually had a row-he's always trying to help me climb through the portrait hole and things-I can help myself!" Ginny's fiery spirit seemed to be returning, and Blaise was glad.

"But you were crying," Granger said.

Blaise scowled. _Shut up, Granger. Don't make her unhappy again._

"I know, isn't it ridiculous?" was Ginny's response.

"Why?" Granger asked.

"Because!" Ginny burst out. She calmed herself. "When we split-well, we were both furious. I didn't cry _then_. But just now, I came out here-Seamus and Dean are over there, and I saw them-they didn't see me. But Seamus was talking and talking to Dean and Dean was just sitting there, not saying anything or _any_thing and looking so bloody miserable-I don't know, I just began crying. And if that isn't ridiculous, I don't know what is!" She ended in a half-sob that made Blaise clench his fists, and then grimace at the pain.

Granger made a soothing noise and Blaise could just imagine her hugging Ginny. For an extremely odd moment he envied Granger.

"We'd better go back to the castle," Ginny said several seconds later. "Break's almost over."

"All right," Granger responded.

Blaise watched the two of them walk towards the castle, pulling in the Extendable Ear and stuffing them into his pocket. Then he got up and headed for the castle too.

~'~

Several days later, after classes and dinner in the Great Hall, Blaise was sitting in the Slytherin common room, staring at the fire, thinking.

Knowing Ginny had ditched Dean Thomas had, at first, made him feel exultant. She was single, she was free-and suddenly his thoughts had jolted to a halt. Free to do what, exactly? Free to be his girlfriend? He laughed humourlessly. Being Blaise Zabini's girlfriend was not high on Ginny's list of things she wanted to do-Blaise was quite sure of it. And he didn't blame her. Up until a certain amount of time ago, the idea of Ginny Weasley and himself as a couple would have made him laugh derisively. But now…

He shook his head. It was getting later. Several people had gone to bed, but Pansy's gang was still there. He didn't notice them. He knew that some people would have found it odd that he was trying to think in the common room, but he didn't think it was. There was, simply, nowhere else for it. It was afterhours, so he couldn't, legally, go outside. As for his dormitory, well, there were two places that he could have gone in there. One of them was one of the wide, cushioned windowsills, but he found that extremely unappealing, the idea of sitting, staring at the moon was so cliché, he refused to consider it. The other was his bed, and that was little more appealing. He did not want to try to think lying in the dark in his four-poster, listening to Crabbe and Goyle snoring. Blaise couldn't think if people were snoring in the same room. It was impossible. But all these thoughts were far from Blaise's mind as he sat in front of the fire, staring at it and thinking about Ginny Weasley.

The next few days after he had eavesdropped on that conversation between Granger and Ginny he had watched Ginny closer than usual-and tried harder than ever to hide it from her. But he also watched everyone he saw come in contact with her. And Blaise saw things that many people-especially Slytherin people-wouldn't have.

He saw the way Dean Thomas watched Ginny and tried not to. He saw how many boys watched Ginny Weasley-and he was quite sure she wasn't going to be single very long. He saw the way Ginny laughed and _sparkled_-especially in a certain boy's presence. And, most of all, he saw the way that certain boy acted in _her_ presence. For a blind man could have seen that Harry Potter fancied Ginny Weasley-and Blaise Zabini was not a blind man. He was a Slytherin sixth year who happened to be keeping a very close eye on that particular red-haired Gryffindor fifth year and anyone she came in contact with. He did not know how much more he saw than most people would have. He did not realize that very few people could see that Harry Potter fancied Ginny Weasley-that, in fact, there was only one person in the castle aside from himself who was quite sure of this-not counting Harry Potter or Ginny, of course. Blaise only saw that every time Potter and Ginny were together, both of them smiled oftener, laughed easier, and seemed, always, to be in high spirits. And for the first time in his life, Blaise knew what heartache meant, though he would have rejected the idea as cliché. And he realized he cared a great deal more for Ginny Weasley than even he had realized.

But he saw something else, too. He saw that Potter, when he wasn't around Ginny, looked unhappy.

It was at this moment, just as he was wondering why in the name of Merlin Potter was looking unhappy now-_now_ when Ginny Weasley so obviously fancied him, that he heard an annoying voice saying:

"Hi Blaise!"

He knew who it was. Pansy and Tracey weren't annoying, and they wouldn't bother him when he was trying to think. Daphne might have been on occasion, but even she knew better than to chatter at him when he was sitting alone by the fire, so obviously thinking. As for Millicent, she had long ceased being merely annoying, by now she was perfectly maddening. And no other Slytherin girl would approach him like that. It had to be Anastasia.

He didn't look away from the fire. With one part of his mind he realized that it was Friday, that tomorrow was Hogsmeade, and Anastasia's reason for seeking him out was likely that she still didn't have a date. But the other greater part of his mind was wondering what to say, wondering it a bit sluggishly. He was still trying to think of Ginny, Potter, and such things.

But before Blaise could think of anything to say, before Anastasia realized he wasn't responding, someone shouted across the common room:

"Anastasia Runcorn! Come here!"

Anastasia obliged, albeit reluctantly.

Blaise felt relieved. Tracey Davis wasn't quite the most amazing girl in the world, but she came pretty close. He wanted to go on with his earlier thinking, but his train of thought had been quite rudely interrupted. For several seconds he did not really think of anything, and then he remembered what he had been thinking about.

_But none of it really matters_, he told himself. Because, no matter if Potter was absolutely ecstatic or totally depressed, it was still Potter who Ginny Weasley fancied, and not Blaise. Not Blaise.

That hurt, more than Blaise would ever admit to anyone. He was too used to having every girl he was even slightly interested in being absolutely fascinated by him, he admitted it to himself quite freely. And maybe that was why Ginny Weasley seemed so much better than all those other girls. Or maybe it was just the forbidden fruit all over again. Really, that didn't matter much either.

The only thing that really mattered was Ginny Weasley.

Blaise moved restlessly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely between them. He did not notice that the common room was almost deserted. He would not have cared if he had noticed.

Then someone sat next to him on the dark green and black leather couch. He knew without looking that it was Tracey, for with her she brought her own unique fragrance. Blaise didn't know what exactly it was that Tracey smelled like, but he liked it.

Tracey touched his arm, and then quickly withdrew her hand.

He looked up to find her dark blue eyes looking at him. He looked back at the fire.

"Do you mind me interrupting you?" Tracey asked.

He glanced up at her briefly, but once again returned his eyes to the flames. He shrugged. "Thanks for…earlier."

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded. "It was my pleasure, actually." She sounded as if she meant it.

He hoped she was done being serious. He had never been serious-not _really _serious, with Tracey. Or rather, she had never been so with him. It made him a little nervous.

"Blaise, I want you to ask me to Hogsmeade," Tracey said clearly.

Blaise looked at her. She was looking at the fire now, smiling just a little. It was such a _Tracey_ thing to say that he smiled a little, too.

"Why don't you ask me?" he replied.

She looked at him then, her smile widening. "Because I want you to ask me."

"Why? So you can tell people that Blaise Zabini asked you out?" He regretted the words the instant he said them. Not only were they harsh, they were also untrue and unfair. He knew that, whatever Tracey's reasons were for wanting him to ask her, they were not so she could boast about it.

Tracey looked away quickly, but not quickly enough. Blaise saw the hurt in her eyes and felt immeasurably guilty.

"No," she said quietly. "That's not why."

"I know," Blaise said.

Tracey did not respond. Her face, turned towards the fire, was expressionless, and her thick blonde hair swung forward so that Blaise couldn't see her eyes. He knew that she was trying to not let him see that she was hurt. He felt worse than ever.

He cautiously laid a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I know you wouldn't go around talking about it."

There was no response from Tracey.

He hesitated. "Tracey? You angry with me?"

She pulled her arm away from his hand and he was sure she _was_ angry with him. But she pushed her hair out of her face and smiled at him; a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Of course not," she said. "But are you going to ask me?"

"As friends or…?" His hands were clasped again.

She laughed then. "It's up to you."

"Okay, then. Um, will you go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" He raised his eyebrows at her, irrationally relieved to see her eyes laughing at him again.

She laughed again. "Of course I will. Now poor Anastasia's the only sixth year girl without a date. Not counting Millicent."

Blaise laughed. "Has _she_ ever had a date?" he asked rhetorically. "Who's Daphne going with?"

"Terence Higgs." Tracey laughed and shrugged. "The secret here is: he asked me first. But that is a deep dark secret and you must definitely never tell Daphne. She'd probably club me over the head."

Blaise laughed. "I doubt it."

"You'd be surprised. Anyway, it's late, and I'm tired. And so are you, by the way. See you tomorrow." And she headed off towards the girls' dormitory.

He stood and stretched, wondering if she thought he had asked her as friends or as something more. He shrugged, he wasn't sure he knew himself. He was thinking of Tracey Davis as he climbed the stairs to the boys' dormitory, but it was Ginny Weasley who dominated his dreams.

~'~

Saturday morning came and Blaise, coming down from the boys' dorm, found Tracey waiting for him dressed in dark jeans, a dark green off-the-shoulder ripply blouse with smocking around the neck and at the end of the short sleeves, and embroidery, holes, and tie at the neck, under which she was wearing a tight white tank. Her blonde hair was in ponytail, all except several strands. She was very pretty.

She stood when she saw Blaise, and smiled. "Hi."

"Hey." He came the rest of the way down. "Everyone else already gone?" he asked.

She laughed. "I think so. Come on, let's go."

They left the common room together and headed up the stairs. They were almost the last people to leave the castle. They filed past Filch and then headed down the wide drive to the gates.

"By the way, thanks for asking me," Tracey said lightly.

"You deserved it," he replied. He was actually rather distracted by the sight of Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom walking together several hundred feet in front of them. They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left onto the road into the village.

Tracey laughed. "So where are we going?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Where d'you want?"

She shrugged back at him. "I don't know. Madam Puddifoot's?" And she laughed, knowing full well that Blaise hated the place.

"Sure…" he said sarcastically.

They entered Hogsmeade and Tracey looked around interestedly.

"Zonko's?" she suggested.

"It'll be really crowded, but sure, why not?"

They went in. It _was_ really crowded, like always, but Blaise liked it, also as always. Crowded though it was, Blaise didn't see Ginny Weasley. Or Luna Lovegood or Neville Longbottom. He wondered if they weren't there or if they were and he just wasn't seeing them.

They left Zonko's without seeing them and headed for the Three Broomsticks, where Blaise ordered butterbeer and then they found a table in the corner.

"You're upset, Blaise," Tracey observed, looking closely at him.

"I'm not," Blaise growled, hastily transferring his gaze from the red-haired Gryffindor who had just entered to his butterbeer.

"Yes, you are." Tracey seemed undisturbed by his growling.

"I don't want to talk about it," Blaise said.

Tracey studied his face before answering. "All right then. Where else do you want to go?"

~'~

Blaise entered the Slytherin common room behind Tracey. Once inside, they both paused and looked at each other.

"I'm sorry," Blaise said suddenly.

She raised her eyebrows. "For what?"

"I was kind of…grumpy today."

"Yeah, you were." She laughed. "I had fun anyway."

He grinned a little. "Okay, good."

"I'm tired," she said. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Blaise."

"'Night, Tracey," he said. He watched her leave before heading towards the boys' dorm.

He thought about the day. It had seemed that wherever he and Tracey went, Ginny Weasley either was there when they came, or came before they left. It had been a little disconcerting. He wondered if Tracey hadn't noticed anything. But she hadn't said anything.

Nott, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were all there already. Malfoy was in bed, the curtains drawn, Nott was in the process of drawing the curtains, and Crabbe and Goyle were getting ready for bed.

Blaise went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day Blaise went down to the lake for lack of better things to do. Pansy and her gang were holed up in the girls' dorm, doing, they alone knew what, Malfoy had disappeared again, Crabbe and Goyle were eating, and Blaise had no clue where Nott was. He didn't care, either.

It hadn't been a good day.

It was cloudy and windy. Blaise swung around a tree and almost bumped into none other than Ginny Weasley.

"Uh… Sorry," he said. He was staring but he didn't realize it.

She took a step back, but said nothing. She was staring too, startled, a little angry, uncertain whether or not she wanted to say something. She bit her lip.

Blaise wasn't at all prepared to come face to face with Ginny Weasley like this. He wasn't prepared to see her at all, especially not at such a close range. And he was just a boy, not someone with wonderful restraint, though he had been doing well. But he wasn't altogether to blame for what he did. Because he still hadn't gotten over the shock of being so close to Ginny, seeing her like this, smelling her flowery scent, and when she bit her soft, pink lip, he couldn't stop himself.

Blaise kissed her. Kissed her fiercely, passionately, kissed her in a way he'd never kissed anyone else, kissed her with all the bottled-up desires and feelings and passions in him.

And Ginny Weasley, being Ginny Weasley, kissed him back with that mixture of petal-soft velvety fieriness that she alone possessed.

They only broke apart for lack of oxygen. Then they both froze, shocked. Blaise's one hand was tangled in Ginny's hair, the other gripped her shoulder. Ginny's arms were around his neck, her fingers grasping his short hair. For a moment they stood quite still, their bodies pressed against each other, and then Ginny sprang backwards, flinging him off as if he were a snake.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed furiously.

Blaise really did not know how he dared. He just looked at Ginny and said nothing. He was remembering kissing her with something akin to awe.

"Well, say something!" Ginny snapped.

But Blaise didn't know what say. He tried to think of something-anything.

Ginny sighed. "I'd say that you were at loss for words if I didn't know better. You've probably never _been_ at loss for words, have you, Zabini?"

Her voice saying his name wasn't exactly caressing and Blaise flinched, but still didn't know what to say.

"Well, Merlin! Have you completely lost your voice?" Ginny said in exasperation.

Silence.

"Why did you kiss me, anyway?"

"You bit your lip," Blaise said.

Ginny frowned. "So? I bite my lip whenever I want and I've yet to meet a boy who starts snogging me because of it."

Blaise shrugged. "I wasn't thinking." He considered saying he was sorry, but he wasn't sure that he _was_.

"I'm sure you weren't. Because if you had been thinking, you most certainly wouldn't have kissed a blood traitor like me, would you, Zabini?" Her voice was harsh, almost resentful. Of what?

Blaise stared. "That's not what I meant," he said.

"Then what _did_ you mean?" She still sounded resentful.

"I just meant… I don't want you angry." Blaise was uncomfortable. He wished that he wasn't in this position. Talking with Anastasia was better than this, at least with Anastasia you knew where you stood and you didn't care what she thought of you.

Ginny stared at him. "Since when do you care if I'm angry or not?"

Blaise shrugged. "A while."

Ginny was still staring in disbelief. "Why do you care?"

Blaise shrugged again, shifting his position. In him was fighting the desire to be nice to her and the desire to defend himself. The latter won, and the tone of his reply was vicious. "For the same reason almost every male in this school watches you when you walk, was glad when you and Thomas split up, and is currently hating Potter. Because they fancy you, Ginny, we think you're beautiful and too damn brilliant to lose, even if none of them have ever had you-"

"We?" Ginny interrupted.

"What?" Blaise was confused.

"You said 'we think you're beautiful'," Ginny said, looking at him closely. "Why did you say it?"

And Blaise was embarrassed. He had not meant to say 'we'. He shifted uncomfortably and refused to look at Ginny. "Yeah, well, I didn't mean to," he said shortly.

But Ginny Weasley was looking at Blaise in a way she had never looked at him before, not as a Slytherin, but as a boy, just a boy. And she was surprised at what she saw.

"Did you really mean that? What you said about why you care?" she asked slowly.

He looked away. He did not know what to say. He did mean it, but he didn't think he could just say 'yes' to her.

"Yes," Blaise said.

Ginny stared. Blaise wished she wouldn't.

"You're mental," Ginny said.

He shrugged and stared out at the choppy lake. He wished he wasn't in this bloody mess.

"That's just so… Have you forgotten who I am? Who _you_ are?" Ginny looked at him hard, but he continued to watch the lake.

"No," he said.

"Then what?" she asked.

He still didn't look at her. "I just don't care."

The lake looked cold. He kept his eyes on it. Then he felt soft, cool fingers tugging at his arm.

"Would you look at me?" Ginny said.

He looked. She was frowning just a little, studying him with puzzled brown eyes.

"What?" he said.

"_Why?"_ she asked.

He shrugged and looked back at the lake.

"You don't know? That's ridiculous."

He shrugged again.

She wanted to stamp her foot and scream. Instead she grabbed his face between her two hands. He looked at her.

"What?" he said again.

"I don't _know_!" she exclaimed in frustration. "I'm totally confused and it's all your fault!"

"Oh. Sorry," he said.

She rolled her pretty brown eyes. "Can you just tell me _why_?"

He shrugged again. "Why what?"

"Why in the name of Merlin would you be _kissing_ me?" she demanded.

"Um…" He shrugged again. "I wasn't thinking."

She let go of his face. "You said that," she said quietly.

He looked at her and thought that she was beautiful.

"What would you have done if you _would_ have been thinking?" Ginny asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Walked away."

"You can still do that," she said.

He shrugged. "It wouldn't make much difference, would it? I kissed you already."

She bit her bottom lip and studied him. "This conversation isn't doing much good, is it?"

He shrugged again.

"Don't do that anymore," she said.

"Do what?" He was puzzled.

"Shrug," she said.

"Oh. Okay."

They stood there, looking at each other.

Ginny spoke first. "What do you think your friends would say if they saw you now?"

He started to shrug, and then remembered and stopped. "What are you doing, probably," he said.

"Oh," she said, looking like she was trying to figure something out.

"What _are_ we doing?" Blaise asked suddenly.

She looked surprised, and then she laughed. "This is definitely weird. Well… I guess we're actually _talking_, as opposed to just insulting each other."

Blaise smiled in spite of himself. "Yeah…"

She studied him for a moment. "Um, how would you feel about us having a moment of Truth?"

"Truth?" He frowned, puzzled.

"Yeah. Like we can ask anything we like and we'll be truthful in our answer." She was still watching him carefully.

"I don't usually lie, unless it'll do me a lot of good," he said.

She laughed again. "I was talking about total truthfulness. Like deep, honest, potentially embarrassing truthfulness."

"Oh," he said. He considered this for a moment. "Okay, if you want."

She laughed. "Honestly, I do. So…"

They stood for a moment in silence. He watched the wind blow the fiery strands around her face as she studied him with her clear brown eyes. Her gaze was intense, he felt almost afraid to meet it for long.

"Why did you kiss me? Really?" The question was almost a whisper.

He looked at the lake. He could tell she really wanted to know. And he had just said that he was going to be totally truthful.

"You bit your lip," he said.

She looked at him. "But, biting my lip! It's not a big deal. Do you kiss every girl who bites her lip around you?"

"No. Of course not."

"So why me?"

He hesitated, wishing he could just turn and walk away. But he couldn't, not anymore, so he just tried to answer her question honestly.

"I'm not even sure," he said.

"I know what you think of me," she said.

He looked at her. "You do?"

She nodded, looking almost sad. "Yes. You think I'm a blood traitor. That I'm not good enough for you."

_How can she think I still think that?_

"I don't," he said.

"What?" She sounded like she thought she'd heard wrong.

"I don't," he repeated.

"Oh," she said in a small voice.

They were quiet. He watched the lake, and she watched him.

"If-if you came across Pansy Parkinson suddenly, and she bit her lip, would you kiss _her_?"

Blaise looked at her in surprise. "No."

"Why not?" Ginny asked.

"She's Malfoy's girl. And…"

"What?" She was looking at him almost eagerly now.

Blaise looked back at the lake. "I don't want to kiss her," he said.

Silence. He didn't look at her.

"You wanted to kiss me?" she asked slowly, carefully.

"Yeah," he said shortly.

"Did you like it?"

Startled, he looked at her. "What?"

_She_ wasn't looking at _him_, now. "Did you like it?" she repeated in a small voice.

He wasn't sure what the right response to this question was, but remembering his promise, stuck to truth.

"Yes."

They stood, facing each other, both looking away.

"Why did you want to?" Ginny asked finally.

He looked at her and quickly away. "I'm…not sure. It's just you."

"Oh," she said, though her tone suggested she didn't understand. "You wanted to…for how long?"

He was watching her now. "Um, since Christmas? I'm not sure."

"_Why_?" she demanded finally.

"I really don't know for sure. I'm sorry."

She sighed, and looked at him. For a moment their gazes held, and then he looked away.

"So you're saying that…maybe you fancy me?" Ginny's tone was incredulous, but somehow not insulting.

He half shrugged, half nodded. The silence stretched. He didn't dare look at her.

"Blaise?" she whispered.

He looked. She was watching him, her eyes wide.

"Do you mean that?" she asked.

"Kind of," he said.

"Just kind of?"

He looked away, and back. "This isn't fair!" He was suddenly almost shouting. "You can't just stand there and ask me those questions!"

"Oh," said Ginny Weasley, who had never before heard Blaise shout. Not many people had. It wasn't something he did often.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…make you mad."

"I'm not mad," he said more quietly. "It's just… Yes, I fancy you, Ginny; at least I guess that's what's going on. And I can't take you standing there and asking me to give all that and not get anything… I'm sorry."

Ginny was still staring at him with wide eyes. "You aren't playing some sort of sick Slytherin prank on me, are you?"

He scowled. "No."

"Oh. Sorry."

They stood, just looking at each other again.

"Now what happens?" Ginny asked eventually.

He shrugged, and for some reason, smiled.

She bit her lip, looking thoughtful. "Do you think we could be, like, friends?" She looked up at him.

He shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

"On if you mean say-hi-in-the-corridors-but-never-really-talk friends or hang-out-a-lot-and-tell-each-other-almost-everything friends."

She was laughing. "And what if I mean either? Or both?"

He smiled at her laughter. "Then the answer would be no."

Suddenly she was serious. "What if I mean meet-in-secret-sometimes-and-talk friends?"

He sobered as well. "I don't know," he said.

She studied his face. "Can we try?"

He sighed and looked at the lake. "I guess we could."

Ginny suddenly grabbed his hand. He looked at her. She was smiling broadly.

"Come on," she said.

He followed her along the lake to where the bushy part was at its thickest. She plunged into an almost nonexistent gap in the bushes, pulling him after her. On the other side he found a very narrow strip of dry ground leading to something that resembled an island, which looked quite bushy as well.

"Come on," Ginny said again, pausing to smile at him over her shoulder.

He followed her along the narrow strip of land, which was so narrow that at its narrowest point it was actually submerged and they had to step over it. They stepped up to the thick wall of bushes, and then Ginny, with a smile at Blaise, pushed aside several branches to reveal a small opening and stepped through. He followed and found himself on the brink of a small clearing. But it was more than a clearing, for it was indented, rather like someone had pressed a gigantic finger down at that spot. The edges were sharply slanted, the bottom carpeted with flowers. It was almost perfectly round, a tiny place, the diameter scarcely longer than Blaise's height, and, above the steep embankment, encircled and hidden by thick green bushes. This wall was broken once: directly across from where they stood was a gap through which he could see the end of this almost island-an almost triangular, narrow rock, the top almost flat and the sides nearly straight about a foot down to the the water.

Ginny was watching Blaise, looking to see what his reaction would be. He looked around for what seemed like ages to her, and then his eyes met hers.

"What is this place?" he asked.

She smiled. "It's _my_ place. I found it in my second year and I've been coming here ever since when I want to be alone. I don't think anyone else knows it exists."

He smiled back at her. "I do, now."

She laughed, and then suddenly sobered. "I know. I'm not sure why I brought you here."

"Can we go into it?" he asked.

She laughed. "Of course. Come on."

Ginny stepped down into the impression, and then sank down among the flowers. Blaise followed more slowly, and crouched carefully next to her.

She laughed again. "You don't need to be so careful, Blaise."

He liked hearing her say his name-his _first_ name.

"It's like…"

"Magic." Ginny laughed.

"Magical," he corrected her. "I think there's a difference."

She nodded. "Enchanting, it is. I love it."

He smiled at her expression. She lay back in the flowers, and slowly, he did too. They lay, looking at each other for several minutes.

"So now what happens?" Blaise asked, repeating her question from earlier.

She laughed a little. "I don't know, really."

Again silence fell. Then suddenly Ginny asked, "When is your birthday?"

He was a little surprised, but answered almost immediately. "January sixteenth."

She considered this and smiled.

"When's yours?" he wondered out loud.

"August eleventh," she answered. "You don't have any brothers or sisters, do you?"

He shook his head. "You've got lots."

"Six brothers," she said. "But no sisters. Which is sometimes annoying and my brother are mostly insane, but yeah. I'm usually glad I've got them. I can't imagine what it'd be like to have _no_ siblings."

He shrugged. He had never really thought about it.

Ginny kept asking questions, so Blaise kept answering them. Nothing important, just light, trivial things, such as had his father been as Italian as Zabini sounded? (He had.) After a while Ginny sat up and began picking flowers and playing with them. Blaise lay on his back, just watching her.

Ginny was lying back down, telling him about the Weasleys' trip to Egypt to visit Bill, her oldest brother, the summer before her second year when she realized the sun had set. She pulled herself back up.

"Blaise!" she exclaimed, interrupting herself. "It's getting dark."

He sat up too, not taking his eyes off her. "Yeah, it is," he agreed.

She frowned a little. "We missed dinner."

"Oh," he said. "Sorry. I'll take you to the kitchens."

"Blaise," she said, giving him a look that he couldn't quite understand, "You _can't_ take me to the kitchens. Someone would definitely see us. And our Houses haven't changed."

He looked away then. "But you're hungry," he said.

He felt her small hand touch his and then she withdrew it. He looked at her. She was watching him, smiling a little.

"I've been to the kitchens once before," she told him. "I think I'll be okay going there alone. But aren't you hungry as well?"

He shrugged. "A little."

She sighed. "What a bother."

"What is?" He frowned, just a little.

She smiled at him. "That we can't be friends around everyone."

"Oh. Sorry."

She laughed then. "It's not your fault, Blaise. But come on, we'd better get back or we'll be caught out after hours."

"All right."

Blaise stood and held out a hand. Ginny hesitated, then grabbed it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. For a moment they stood there looking at each other, their hands still clasped, and then she withdrew hers, her cheeks slightly pink.

"I'm coming back down here tomorrow," she told him. "I don't mind spending some time alone, but if you want to come, that's okay too."

He nodded. "Okay."

They were still just standing, neither willing to go.

"We'd better go," Ginny said finally.

He nodded again. "Yeah."

She smiled and headed for the invisible gap in the bushes. He followed her until she stopped behind a tree and looked at him.

"I think it would look kind of funny if anyone saw us go up to the castle together," she said.

"I'll wait," he said.

She smiled. "Okay, if you don't mind." She hesitated for a moment. "I'll see you later, Blaise."

"See you, Ginny," he replied.

He watched her walk all the way up to the castle before he, after walking some way along the lake shore, also went up.

~'~

Blaise knew he would go back. The day seemed long, but at last classes were over. Blaise returned to the Slytherin common room and then went up to the boys' dormitory and changed. Then he went back down and was heading for the door when he heard his name.

"Blaise!" Tracey Davis was coming across the common room towards him.

Blaise stopped and waited until she reached him.

"You going outside?" she asked, shoving her hair out of her face as she came to a stop next to him.

He nodded. "I guess."

"Mind if I come with?"

He laughed. "You're _asking_?"

She shoved him. "That's insulting," she said, smiling.

He shrugged. "You don't usually bother, you know."

She laughed. "You mind?"

He shrugged again. "Not really."

She rolled her eyes and muttered something unintelligible. Then, "Let's go out, Blaise," she said.

He followed her all the way down to the lake. She sat down on a rock almost in the water and stared out at the lake for a moment before looking back up at him, still standing.

"What's wrong, Blaise?"

He looked at the lake instead of her eyes. "Nothing," he said.

She studied him for what seemed like forever, until he felt quite uncomfortable. Finally he returned her gaze.

"What?"

Her lips parted as if she was about to speak, then she snapped her mouth shut and looked at something over Blaise's shoulder.

"Oh, there's Daphne. I'll see you later, Blaise."

She jumped to her feet and headed towards the curvaceous auburn-haired Slytherin. As she brushed past Blaise he thought he saw something in her eyes, but she hurried too fast for him to really see, leaving Blaise to frown after her, puzzled.

After several moments of waiting he gave up and headed, quickly and quietly, towards Ginny's clearing. She was there when he reached it, lying in the centre, her eyes closed. He cautiously entered and sat next to her. She must have heard him, for her eyes flew open.

"Blaise! You startled me-I didn't hear you come." She sat up.

He smiled at her. "Sorry."

She laughed. "It's okay, I was just surprised." She looked at him a moment in silence. "You came," she said.

He nodded. "You said I could if I wanted to."

Her smile had returned as she lay back down. "I'm glad you did," she said.

He lay down next to her, watching her carefully.

Again, they spent most of the afternoon in light conversation. Both enjoyed it, but today Ginny noticed when it was dinnertime and mentioned it to Blaise. She left first again, going straight to the Great Hall for dinner, but Blaise did not go in until it was dark out, and then he went straight to the Slytherin common room without a thought for dinner.

* * *

**Thank you, lovely people! Reviews make me smile :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Going back the next day was an almost involuntary decision on Blaise's part. It was cloudy and cool, though not raining, and few people were out. The clearing was empty when he reached it but he didn't care. He lay in it and appreciated the silence. Until he felt someone pulling his hair and, upon opening his eyes, found Ginny Weasley laughing at him.

"Hey," he objected.

"I thought maybe you were sleeping," Ginny said, still laughing.

He smiled at her. "How could I sleep here?"

"I don't know," she said. "Anyway, you'd probably get rained on." She looked up at the sky and he did too. "I like when it blows like this," she went on. "It makes me feel alive and a little crazy… I feel like flying or dancing or something." She jumped to her feet and whirled wildly, the wind blowing her hair about her.

Blaise sat up to watch her and, laughing, she held out a hand to him. He hesitated only a moment before taking it and standing. She could not whirl while holding his hand as he stood still, so she just stood, her hair flaming across her face. Blaise couldn't resist brushing away the fiery strands, and Ginny froze. Blaise moved closer. This time, he knew what he was going to do, but he didn't know what her response would be.

He bent his dark head and pressed his lips against hers. She did not object. He moved closer, and she responded, and then Blaise knew what it was like to kiss Ginny Weasley with her consent.

When he let her go she looked at him with wide eyes. "You just kissed me again."

He found himself smiling. "You just kissed me back again."

She laughed. "I suppose I did… I rather liked it, you know."

Blaise smiled at her. "That is the idea."

She smiled back at him, and then sank down into the grass. "It's starting to rain," she observed.

He sat down too. "You'll get wet."

"I don't melt."

"That's odd," he said.

She laughed and punched his arm. "You'll get wet too."

He shrugged. "Maybe we'd better go up to the castle."

"Maybe," she said. "And retreat into our respective common rooms."

He shrugged again.

"Okay, fine, let's go then." She jumped to her feet and headed off, leaving him to follow.

When they to the edge of the trees it was already raining hard enough so as to obscure the castle. Ginny looked up towards it.

"We'll get soaked walking up there," she said.

"We're already getting soaked," Blaise pointed out.

She looked over and up at him, and smiled. "True," she conceded.

He wanted to kiss her again. She was so pretty, smiling at him, her rain-darkened hair damply clinging to her face. So he did.

"How often are you going to do that?" she asked when he let her go again.

"Do I have to put a limit on it?" he asked, smiling.

She laughed. "We'd better go in. You'll get a cold or something."

She stood on tiptoe to lightly kiss him on the cheek, then smiled and, with a wave, left him there.

~'~

"Blaise, you are soaked!"

He was almost to the stairs leading down to the dungeons when he heard Pansy. He turned to see her coming towards him, eyeing his dripping clothes.

"Hey Pansy," he said.

"I suppose you've been outside though I don't know why you would be in the weather," she said. "Come on, I can't dry you off, I'm horrible at that spell, but Tracey knows it."

She led him down and into the Slytherin common room. After dragging him over to Tracey and getting her to dry him off, Pansy dropped into the chair opposite the couch where Tracey and Daphne had been doing their homework, leaving Blaise to do whatever he chose. Daphne, though, grabbed Blaise's arm and pulled him down next to her on the couch.

"I hate Binns," she complained. "I'm stuck and Tracey's already done. It's not fair! I suppose you did this already?" she asked Blaise.

He looked at what she was doing. "Yeah I did."

"Everyone did except me," she groaned. "I'm going to the library."

"I'll come with you," Pansy said, "I don't know where Draco is anyway…again."

She jumped up and they left, leaving Blaise alone with Tracey and the thought that girls were weird. He looked over at Tracey who was concentrating fully on the book she was holding against her knee.

"What are you reading?" Blaise asked.

She looked up and smiled at him. "Blood Brothers."

"That's about vampires, right?"

She nodded. "My Life Amongst the Vampires is the rest of the title."

"Why are you reading that?" he asked, slouching comfortably.

She shrugged. "It was lying on the table and I just picked it up and started reading. It's really quite interesting, if a bit freaking."

He shook his head and grinned at her. "I never read it."

She laughed. "That's funny. You should. It seems like just your type." And she retreated back into the world of Eldred Worple's vampires.

He turned his head without raising it and studied her. She had changed out of her Hogwarts uniform into white jeans and a white and lavender striped t-shirt and put her hair in a loose, messy ponytail on the side. Her legs were pulled up and with one hand she held the book open against them, while the other played with a strand of her blonde hair.

She looked up to see him watching her and smiled. "What?"

He shrugged and turned his head. "Nothing."

Tracey laughed softly and looked back at her book. Blaise glanced over at her and away again. The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional sound of her paging. Blaise felt that this had the potential to become awkward. She seemed almost oblivious to his presence. He wished she would say something. She went on reading and he sat there, waiting for something to happen.

After what seemed like hours but in reality was only about ten minutes Tracey came back out of her book.

"Merlin, is it really dinnertime already?" She stood and stretched, then placed her book on the table and headed out of the Slytherin common room.

Blaise got up and followed. He didn't bother catch up with her until she was entering the Great Hall. They found Pansy and Daphne already eating and sat down across from them.

Glancing across the hall, Blaise found Ginny Weasley's mane of red hair. She was sitting with Harry Potter, her older brother Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, facing away from Blaise. He turned his attention back to his own table.

~'~

Blaise didn't go back the next day. He wasn't sure why, he just didn't. Instead he spent the afternoon and evening in doing his homework and reading Blood Brothers. It was a long day.

The day after that, though, he went. It was windy and cloudy; the storm of two days earlier seemed to have returned. She was already there. He paused on the edge of the clearing, studying her.

Ginny sat in the gap in the bushes on the opposite edge, on the rocky outcropping, staring at the lake. She was dressed in faded blue jeans and a grey shirt with some red at the wrists, neck, and waist. Her hair was open and blew around her face like fire.

She seemed to sense him there and looked around. She stood quickly but did not walk toward him, just looked at him.

"Hey," he said. He suddenly felt worried. Why was she looking at him so strangely?

"Hi." Her voice was light, careful.

He crossed the short, incredibly great space between them, until he was standing partly on earth, partly on rock, leaving scarcely two feet between them.

"What's wrong?" he asked, point-blank but still gently.

She bit her lip and took a small step closer. She looked away and back. "Blaise," she said. "I-I'm sorry… I just can't-do this."

Some part of Blaise felt like this was inevitable. But the rest of him wanted to fight it, wanted her too much to just let her go.

"What do you mean?" His voice was harsh.

"You know," she said.

He sighed, telling himself to calm down, to not respond like this.

"Tell me," he said.

She looked down. "I've got to stop coming down here, meeting you like this."

"You didn't like it." The assumption hurt him.

She looked up, her eyes flashed with something he couldn't identify.

"Don't be stupid. Of course I liked it."

He took a step closer, reaching for her. "Then why…?"

Her hands were fists and she placed one against his stomach, stopping him from coming any closer. She looked down at it, her hair falling forward over her shoulders.

"Don't you see, Blaise?" she pleaded. "I love Harry. It's just not right for me to…"

"You-" His voice was rough and he stopped abruptly. The silence lasted a moment before he tried again. "What am I, then?"

She looked up, and her eyes were filled with tears. This scared Blaise more than anything she could have done.

"Oh, _Blaise_. Don't, please…"

"Don't what?" He sounded harsh again.

She looked back down at her hand, still against his stomach.

"Don't do this," she whispered. "It's hard enough without…"

"I want to know."

He couldn't see her face; she didn't look up and her hair had fallen forward. He heard her take a deep breath.

"I-I'm not sure," she said, her voice shaky. "You're-you're special. And maybe-maybe I love you, too. But Harry…"

"The Chosen One." He was sounding more and more like a Slytherin talking to a Gryffindor.

She looked up at him then, her tears replaced by angry defiance.

"Don't you dare-Harry is much more to me-it has nothing to do with-as if I care about-" She seemed to be unable to find words.

She couldn't see what Blaise was thinking when he said the Chosen One. He was not thinking about the prophecy, or Voldemort, or any of that. He was thinking that Potter was the one chosen by Ginny Weasley. Blaise hated Potter more in that moment than he had ever hated anyone in his life.

Ginny saw this in his eyes, and it frightened her. She stepped back, but he reached out and grabbed her waist, not letting her move away from him.

"Why?" he demanded, harsher than ever. "What's he got that I don't?"

"It's not what he has, Blaise." She tried to sound reasonable. "It's just…who he is, and who _I_ am, and…who you are. I'm not right for you, Blaise. You have almost all the girls in Hogwarts to choose from, why did you choose me? I'm the most wrong." She was looking down again.

"You're _not_-"

His mouth came down on hers, hard and furious, and for a moment she kissed him back, then she pushed him away.

"Blaise, stop. I told you, no. I can't anymore. I love Harry-"-her voice faltered, then strengthened-"-more than you." She dared not looked up. "I want you to-forget me, and go and-and find yourself a Slytherin girlfriend-"

"Like hell I will," he said fiercely.

"Blaise-"

Again he kissed her, and again she kissed him back but this time she recovered sooner.

"_No_, Blaise. _Stop_."

He reached for her but she caught his wrists, letting their hands hang between the two of them.

"Ginny…" he said, his voice low, desperate.

"I-I'm sorry, Blaise. But I'm not coming back here…and you shouldn't either."

He was looking down now, fighting with himself, and didn't answer.

"I-I guess I'll see you later," Ginny said finally. She let go of his wrists and stepped around him, heading towards the way out from the almost island.

"Ginny," he said.

But if Ginny heard, she did not heed, and when he turned around she was gone. Blaise held still and breathed for a moment and then plunged in the direction she had gone.

He made it to a large beech tree before he couldn't go on. He stood still, breathing hard. Blaise Zabini _didn't_ cry, and he didn't cry now. But the pain felt like too much to bear. He stared unseeingly at the tree trunk, and then he punched it with all his strength.

Which wasn't a good idea.

Blaise's hand, not quite healed from punching another tree, felt like it was going to explode. He stared at it for a moment, and then he turned and headed for the castle.

Despite the windy day, many students were outside, and Blaise attracted quite a few curious glances, though no one approached him.

At the entrance to the Slytherin common room he ran into Tracey Davis. The kind of running into that happens when two people are looking down, not at all concentrating on where they're going.

They both stumbled back, Tracey reaching up to touch the bump on her head.

"Oh, Blaise, I'm so sorry, I should have been watching where…" Her voice trailed off without finishing her sentence as she saw Blaise's face. Something about the expression in his eyes made her think of a wounded animal, not comprehending his pain. "Blaise, are you okay?"

He blinked at her, for a moment confused, and then as someone brushed past on his right he automatically moved his hand to in front of his chest, protecting it. Tracey noticed.

"Blaise, your hand!" she gasped.

He looked down and realized that he had skinned his knuckles against the rough bark on the tree trunk. Tracey reached for his hand and he let her despite the pain that increased its intensity as she gently took it in her hands.

"It's broken isn't it," she said, looking up at him.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"What have you been _do_ing? Come on," she rushed on without pausing for him to answer, "Let's get you to the hospital wing."


	5. Epilogue

**Soo... epilogue! It's not the most detailed thing, granted, it's just a glimpse. But guess what that's all you're getting for now! I apparently will write a sequel :) love all you lovely ppl who reviewed! You made my very day! :)**

* * *

It was in October six years later when Blaise came back to England. He found a flat in Muggle London and again, told no one that he was back. But after several days he went to Diagon Alley. It seemed a bit empty but he didn't mind. He wandered through several shops before coming to a large, impressive one. The sign read _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. _Blaise had been in here once before, but it had been in a different, smaller shop. Apparently, the Weasley twins' business was doing well.

He pushed open the door and entered. This shop was by far the most crowded of any he had been in that day. He saw George Weasley, the twin with just one ear, at the counter. The other twin, Fred, was nowhere to be seen.

Blaise wandered about the back corners where there were less people. He inspected the shelves without any intentions of buying anything.

"Blaise?!" It was a female voice, soft and startled. Uncertain.

He looked up and then down. She was small, pretty, very pregnant, and red-haired.

"Ginny Weasley," he said.

"Potter," she corrected.

He studied her almost curiously. He had not forgotten her-he was sure he would never be able to. Yet, now, she was a memory. A tender, poignant, bittersweet memory, yes, but what mattered was that she was a memory, something that had happened in the past. Still, seeing her, so suddenly, stirred something in him.

The way she said _Potter_-and her obvious pregnancy-stirred something else-jealousy.

"I didn't know you're back," she said.

He shrugged. "Is Potter here?"

She nodded. "He's with Ron. Ron works here part time."

"Looks like the twins are doing well." It was a rather strange something for Blaise to say.

Ginny looked surprised, and then sad. "Just George," she said. "Fred...he died in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Oh. Sorry." He shifted, feeling awkward and like he hated all the people who had died.

She sighed. "Where were you? All this time."

He shrugged. "My mother and I went to America for a couple years and then we came back here and I went to Italy."

"So you were here?"

He shrugged. "Not long."

"Oh." She absently rubbed her stomach. "Blaise," she said suddenly, "I'm sorry about...you know."

"I'm not," he said.

She smiled a little. "For me, maybe not. But for you... That was terrible of me, Blaise, I can see now. I always knew Harry was the one I really loved. I shouldn't have ever let that happen with you if I knew it couldn't last for longer than it did."

He shrugged. "I'm still not sorry."

She laughed softly. "Oh, Blaise. Are you happy now?"

He shrugged again. "I'm okay."

She studied his face with searching eyes. "It's just not fair that I should be if you're not."

He laughed shortly and was about to say something, when-

"Ginny?"

She turned her head and a smile lit up her face. "Coming!"

Blaise's face darkened. She turned back to him and her smile faltered at his expression.

"Do you hate me now, Blaise?"

He shook his head.

She sighed, hesitating. "I should go, Blaise."

He nodded but said nothing.

"I guess...I'll see you later," she said.

"See you," he said.

Ginny smiled a little sadly and left. He watched her out of sight and then turned and stared at the shelf with unseeing eyes.


	6. Just A Blink

"You are your mother's son."

Blaise, uncertain whether he wanted to take this as a compliment or not, said nothing.

Luca studied him and went on. "Do you regret it?"

Blaise scarcely needed to think about this. "No, I don't."

His father nodded. "I didn't think so. No more do I regret being with your mother that spring, and I do not believe she regrets it either. I guess it was in your blood, Blaise. And nothing is more tempting than the forbidden fruit, yes?" He laughed. "But you're certainly not going to get back together with her?"

"Ah, no," Blaise said flatly. "She's Potter's girl. I reckon they could be married by now."

"When you say Potter…"

"Harry Potter."

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**In other words, the first chapter of the sequel is up, ya'll! And that's a bit.**


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